


Morning Classes

by kingburu



Series: Olympus University [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24528463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingburu/pseuds/kingburu
Summary: Professor Grace is the newest professor at Olympus University. Interruptions are typical, including by Mister di Angelo.Professordi Angelo is wondering why the hell the new Latin professor is teaching his class.
Relationships: Nico di Angelo/Jason Grace
Series: Olympus University [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772662
Comments: 3
Kudos: 131





	Morning Classes

**Author's Note:**

> An old idea from 2014! Please enjoy!

Jason readjusts the glasses on his face and takes his briefcase out of the passenger’s seat. He checks the school map one last time on his phone and scurries into the building before the bell can ring.

Students are already seated in the auditorium. They stop talking as soon as they see him.

_Freshmen_ , Jason thinks. Or sophomores. They stare at him in fascination, and he stumbles down the steps to get to the desk at the bottom. By the time he makes it down, the bell’s already rung, and he’s trying to catch his breath.

“Sorry,” he gasps, and he straightens out his suit. “I would have been here sooner, but—Professor Jackson gave me the wrong directions, and I, uh. I nearly ended up driving my car into the school pool.”

Someone laughs, and that eases Jason’s nerves a little more. He grins, takes off his blazer, and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. “Hello class—welcome to the first day of school.”

Murmurs circulate through the auditorium. Some students get up to leave, most likely in the wrong class, while the majority of students stare blankly at him.

He grins a little, and pulls out a copy of his syllabus. He didn’t have time to send a mass email this morning or even put it on his thumb drive, but Jason doubts they’d look at it anyway. “Now, I know that this is a freshman level course, so not very many of you are familiar with the campus. You’re not alone—this is my first year teaching at Olympus University, too. Hopefully none of you are taking this as a blow off class.”

More students snicker, but Jason’s been teaching for three years now, so he knows all of the classroom stereotypes. The texters, the brown-nosers, the diligent students, the nappers, the gamers, and—the occasional pervert.

“This _will_ be a hard class. I guarantee that you’ll be happy with what you’ve learned by the end of the term.” Jason flips through his syllabus and leans against the desk. “And if you fail, it means that _I’ve_ failed.”

He reads off from his notes, telling them how he used to teach in San Francisco before moving to New York after the last professor went crazy and talked about wanting to rule the world through young minds and create armies.

The lesson plan is next—Jason tells them he expects them to write a paper after every unit to discuss what they’ve learned—and depending on the paper, he reads them all and addresses what concepts each individual student is struggling with.

“I know there has got to be over 150 of you, but I promise you that I try to read every paper that I get, so my TAs aren’t stuck with all the work,” Jason assures.

About twenty minutes later, the doors open at the very top and a student walks in. His face is covered in black smears, hair askew, and the suitcase in hand looks heavy.

He doesn’t take a seat immediately.

Instead, as Jason continues reading from the syllabus, the student stands there—staring at him. Frowning. Some students in the back turn to look at him, which is when Jason starts getting annoyed.

“Would you like to take a seat so you aren’t distracting the rest of the class,” Jason asks, “Mister…?”

“Di Angelo,” the student says with deadpan, which Jason immediately decides he doesn’t like. “ _Dr._ Di Angelo.”

Whispers fill the hall, students flipping through papers on their desk.

“And I suppose you have business in Latin 1120?” Jason muses. He crosses his arms and leans against the desk. For amusement’s sake, he decides to entertain the student. “ _Doctor?”_

“I don’t,” Di Angelo says simply. “Considering you’ve been teaching my _European History_ class for the past twenty-five minutes.”

Wait.

What.

The whispers get louder.

“You want me to believe that you’ve actually got your PhD?” Jason supposes the guy could pass for twenty-two at best, but not even his smartest colleagues have gotten their PhD. Yet. He doesn’t mean to _corner_ Di Angelo, but Jason doesn’t take kindly to people distracting his class.

A hand in the front shoots up in the air. “Um, Professor…?”

“Yes?” Jason asks.

“Are you…saying this isn’t History 2102?” The student flips through papers that Jason definitely did not give her. “The syllabus says it’s…supposed to be taught by Professor Di Angelo in this room.”

“Present,” Di Angelo says. He raises his hand and gives a mocking salute.

A symphony of murmurs in accordance, and Jason’s frown melts off his face.

At the top of the staircase, _Doctor_ Di Angelofiles down, his lips in a flat line and gaze tired. He still looks young under all of the grease on his face, but doesn’t look mad. Amused, maybe.

Which only makes Jason turn red.

“Sorry I’m late, class. I’m assuming most of you got my email saying I’d be running late due to car troubles. For those of you who’re here, you’ll get five extra credit points.” Di Angelo places his briefcase on the desk and walks up to the first row. “Does anyone have notebook paper to take names?”

Jason flushes an even darker shade of red, not quite sure what to do. “I…thought this was ATH130.”

Di Angelo turns around, this time a glimmer of amusement shining in his dark eyes. He arches an eyebrow. “This is ATH103. ATH130 is on the east side of the building.”

_Crap._

“You must be the new professor for the history department.” Nico wipes his grimy hand on his jean pocket and extends it. “I’m Nico di Angelo. You can call me Nico.”

Jason shakes it, still dumbfounded.

Then that twinkle in Nico’s eye becomes a little brighter. The corner of his lip curls into a slight smile. “Don’t you have a class to teach?”

Oh. “ _Fuck—”_ Jason inspects his wristwatch, grabs his briefcase, and darts out of the room before anyone can laugh.

*

As soon as he left ATH103, someone in the hallway dropped scalding hot coffee on his pants. Jason doesn’t have enough time to go home and change pants during his office hours, but is at least able to get most of the stains out before he meets Piper for lunch.

Piper laughs at him when they meet up in the student union. “Percy tells me that you went to the wrong classroom to teach and went on for half an hour before Di Angelo walked in.”

“Not on purpose.” Jason fumbles in his seat, pants still a little damp. “You know how bad that guy is with directions? I nearly parked my car into a pool because of him.”

“You could have asked _me_.”

“I tried calling you—neither you nor Leo get up before 11AM.” Despite the series of unfortunate events, Jason thinks he likes the OU better than the last university that he worked at. He’s got three classes that he teaches: one _Intro to Latin_ class in the morning—which he missed a grand total of forty-five minutes of, the afternoon class—which he’s determined to not miss, and an Honors Latin class tomorrow—first thing in the morning.

Jason sent a mass formal apology to his morning class, explaining that he was a new professor that got lost around campus.

(He left out the part where he taught someone else’s class by accident and _definitely_ left out the part where someone spilled coffee on his crotch.)

“How’d you hear about that anyway? I haven’t told anyone.” Jason clears his throat and sinks his teeth into his apple. “Not unless that professor told Percy.”

“You know how Percy is. Di Angelo is in the history department, too.” Piper hums. “He’s pretty nice. Good at what he does. He stole some of my students last semester, so I snuck into his class to see why people liked it so much. He’s a good professor, he just doesn’t know how to socialize outside of class.”

“He seemed to think my making an ass out of myself was funny,” Jason mumbles.

“To be fair, you don’t make an ass out of yourself very often.” Piper finishes off her veggie burger. “That’s why Leo and I treasure the moments where you’re just all ass.”

Jason nearly chokes on his Gatorade. “You’ve been hanging out with Jackson too much.”

“Same department,” Piper points out. “And if we weren’t such good friends, then I never could’ve convinced him to give you that interview.”

“Yeah, because my credentials aren’t enough.” Jason rolls his eyes, pretending to look offended—but can’t help smiling. “Thank you for that. For the job, I mean.”

Piper’s grin wanes into a smile and she squeezes Jason’s hand gingerly. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

“Me too.” Jason nods his head towards Piper’s belly. “So—when are you going to tell Leo that you’re expecting?”

She rolls her eyes. “When he stops setting university buildings on fire.”

*

An hour before his next class, Jason returns to his office in the history building. It’s still barren of decorations—Jason didn’t take a lot with him when he left San Francisco. He keeps a picture of Thalia and him on his desk, along with some trophies won from when he was in high school and in college. Another picture of Leo, Piper, and him hangs on the wall beside the window.

Jason emails the class syllabus to everyone in his afternoon class and scans his room for the perfect place to store extra clean pants.

A knock on his door pulls Jason out of his thoughts. He opens it. “Oh—hi.”

“Hi.” Professor Di Angelo stands at the opposite end of the threshold, looking like he’s unsure what to do with himself. He proceeds to shove something in Jason’s arms. “You left your jacket in the room this morning.”

“I—oh, I did.” Jason inspects it, and sure enough, it’s his jacket. His cheeks blaze red and he throws it across his desk, not even bothering to turn around.

The same familiar glimmer from this morning flashes in Di Angelo’s eyes. Di Angelo can’t be taller than 5’9”—he still _looks_ like an undergrad, but his demeanor definitely screams college professor. He doesn’t smile, but seems amused by Jason’s… _awkward_ behavior. “You left in such a hurry. My students were a bit concerned about you.”

“Sorry,” Jason says almost instinctively. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Did you figure out where your class was?”

“Yes. Sorry— _again._ I didn’t mean to mistake you for a student.”

Di Angelo waves his hand dismissively, clearly not caring. “I get it often enough. Your reaction wasn’t as bad as Jackson’s.”

The quip makes both of them smile a little bit. Jason looks up, scanning Di Angelo’s face—which still has a bit of grime on it. “How’s your car?”

“Dying.” Di Angelo snorts and rolls his eyes. “You don’t really think I’d be thirty minutes late to class on purpose, do you?”

“You could’ve just been like me,” Jason points out. “You know—wrong room and such.”

“Did you have to cancel class?”

“I—well—yes, basically.” Jason doesn’t want to get into it any more than that. He nervously pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose—then digs into his pocket for a handkerchief. “Here.”

“You keep one of these in your pocket?” A dark eyebrow arches in the air. Di Angelo inspects it.

“I just think you look nice under all of that grime.” Jason’s mind backtracks and he cringes. When he looks back up, he realizes Di Angelo looks a little red—which makes Jason feel like a total moron. “Sorry—I—sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Di Angelo mumbles. He shuffles between his feet, now unable to look Jason in the eye, but manages to extend a hand again. “We didn’t get a formal introduction before. I’m Nico di Angelo. I teach European History here.”

“Jason Grace. I teach Latin.” Jason discreetly wipes the sweat off his palm and shakes Di Angelo’s hand. “You can just call me Jason.”

“Jason, huh? Nico, then.”

They fall into an uncomfortable silence.

“Can you…tell me where your afternoon class is so I don’t end up teaching it by accident?” Jason’s heart skips a beat—and he has to pretend he isn’t relieved when Nico starts smirking.

“I dunno. I think I liked the entertainment after such a hard morning.”

“Glad to be of service then.” Jason tips an imaginary hat, which only makes Nico chuckle.

“Glad to have you in the department,” Nico says. He steps back behind the line to Jason’s office, and waves awkwardly. “I’ll be seeing you.”

“Hopefully not in the wrong classroom.” Jason smiles weakly, and Nico grins.

Then he leaves.

*

“Welcome to Latin 1120—” Jason inspects the auditorium to make sure he hasn’t lost anyone. “—my name is Professor Grace, and I’ll be teaching you this semester. Now, I know that this is a freshman level course…”

The introductions—for the most part—go smoothly. At the twenty-five minute mark, Jason eyes the door, waiting for another professor to come in and claim the course. When that doesn’t happen, he decides it’s a personal victory.

Then forty-five minutes into the class, the doors open.

Nico stands there, at the very top.

Jason stumbles over the next few words of his syllabus. They make eye contact, and Jason’s mind completely blanks.

A smirk spreads across Nico’s lips, albeit small, and he takes a seat in the very back.

“So, ahem—this is my grading policy…” Jason’s voice trails off, and he loosens his necktie.

The course goes on—some students look over their shoulders to Nico, who seems genuinely interested as Jason explains his backstory. Jason wonders if there’s a lot of overlap between their lectures, and if some of the students also take Nico’s class. Latin has to have _some_ relevance to European History, right?

(And maybe some of them take Nico’s morning class and saw Jason make an ass out of himself this morning—because Jason definitely hears laughter and bets this morning’s events have made it completely around the grapevine.)

When he’s done with his syllabus, the students all file out of the auditorium. Nico waits in his spot before he trots down the steps and meets Jason at the center.

“Had to make it fair, didn’t you?” Jason jokes. “I interrupt your class, so you have to interrupt mine.”

The edge of Nico’s lips curls into a smirk. He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his hoodie—which is one of the eerie reminders of why Jason thought he was a college student in the first place. “Poking fun at another professor on your first day isn’t a good idea, Professor Grace.”

“My apologies, Professor Di Angelo. I’ll refrain from poking in the future.” Jason arches a playful eyebrow and collects his things strewn across the desk.

“I’ll hold you to that then.” Nico’s gaze narrows.

A silence follows, like the one earlier in Jason’s office—but this one feels more comfortable.

“Well,” Nico says, “I have class to teach.”

“Oh?” Jason tries not to let his disappointment show.

“Across the hall.” Nico points behind them, even though all is waiting for them is empty seats. “My class starts fifteen minutes.”

“Then I promise I won’t interrupt it.”

Nico rolls his eyes. “I assume you know where the exit is?”

“That I do.”

“Alright then.” Nico nods his head towards Jason’s jacket, strewn nicely on the chair. “Don’t forget that.”

Jason gathers it up, tucking it over his arm. He smiles kindly to Nico. “Again—pleasure meeting you, Nico.”

“Likewise.” Nico eyes Jason, like he’s trying to assess Jason’s worth—but says nothing else. Instead, he bows his head and trots back up the stairs and out of the classroom.

Once Nico leaves, Jason double checks the room for anything else he might’ve forgotten. He makes it to the building entrance, car key in hand since the parking lot is only a five minute walk from where he is now.

Then stops.

Piper has one more Native American Studies class to get through before her day is over, and Leo is busy in a workshop until 5:30PM. Jason’s still getting used to the layout of the town—and he doesn’t like the idea of leaving without his best friends with him.

As he thinks about his plans, Jason unintentionally waltzes back to the entrance of his classroom. The building is quiet—some students linger in the halls on their laptops, undoubtedly assigned homework already, while others are catching up and discussing summer vacation.

He’s about to make the impulsive decision to just _leave_ and talk to Piper _later_ —but catches an earful of Nico’s voice from across the hall, like Nico promised. Jason wrinkles his nose and bites back a smile. He slowly walks towards the doors and pulls on a handle.

After all, it’s only fair, right?


End file.
